


comfort in sound

by lofts



Category: Ackley Bridge (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, bros being bros, fifa and chill, smut but it's lowkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lofts/pseuds/lofts
Summary: Secretly, Steve’s grateful that he’s got Will. Sometimes he’s like a puppy, excitable, desperate for validation and praise. But he’s reliable, and genuine, and deep down, he’s actually pretty thoughtful.in which steve turns up at will's after the break-up, and it's the best thing to happen to will all week





	comfort in sound

**Author's Note:**

> this goes out to all my pe romance stans in the discord. you got me into this mess  
> please do not take the additional tags lightly. y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶k̶i̶p̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶l̶o̶w̶i̶e̶

“It’s over.”

Steve faces Will with an unreadable expression. He’s still dressed in his formal work clothes; a pale shirt, slightly dishevelled by now; navy blue tie, and uncomfortably smart trousers. Contrarily, he’s changed into his trainers. Will raises his eyebrows.

“Was it something I said?”

Steve glares at him for a moment, but can’t hold back a little laugh. “Are you gonna let me in or not?”

Will steps back and lets by Steve, who glances gratefully at him as he passes into the kitchen. There’s a waft of body odour mixed with his cologne, but Will deals with sweaty teenage boys for a living. He doesn’t mind.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Will asks, instinctively making his way to the kettle. He doesn’t bother replacing the water, instead flicking the switch and turning back to his friend. He’s shaking his head.

“Not really,” says Steve. “Same old shit, I suppose. I just need to clear my head.”

Will nods as he spins back around, fishing around for some vaguely clean mugs in the overhead cupboard. “I can roll with that.” He sets out two mugs – ironically, a Mr and Mrs set – and gets to making the teas. Steve sits and watches.

“Two sugars please, mate,” he says eventually.

“I know,” Will chirps. He remembers.

He places down the mugs, teaspoons clinking, and sits opposite Steve at his tiny and rickety table. Under one leg is a TV guide, folded in half. There are ring stains all over its scratched wooden surface. “I’m all out of biccies, I’m afraid.”

“Not to worry,” Steve says, squinting into the steam as he takes a sip. “I’m laying off the sugar at the moment anyway.”

Will snorts. “Why?”

Steve looks at him affectedly. “Nothing wrong with wanting to look after yourself, is there? Body’s a temple and all that.”

“Like yours needs any work,” Will mutters. Steve looks at him for a moment, then back down at his drink. He stirs it twice before clocking the design.

“What’s with the mugs?” he smirks.

Will looks up at him confusedly, then leans forward to turn Steve’s mug around. He’s the Mrs. “Oh,” he flushes, “they were a present. Old girlfriend. She didn’t exactly want that one back.”

Steve nods and takes another sip. “Women, eh?” he chuckles. “Can’t live with ‘em…”

Will doesn’t finish. He raises his mug for a toast. Steve laughs again, and taps their mugs together. “Can’t live with ‘em.”

-

Fifa and chill. _Fifa and chill._ Will is mentally kicking himself. Is he actually sixteen? What _grown adult_ says that to another grown adult? It’s not like he was even propositioning anything. It’s just the phrase. He meant it literally, for sure. Steve laughed it off and agreed, but Will is obsessing over it in his head. Fifa and fucking chill – god, what was he thinking? That’s not a normal thing to say. That is _so_ not a normal thing to say.

Also, has Will’s couch gotten smaller? Steve used to be able to sleep on this, but now they’re sat on opposite ends and there’s not that much space between them. Steve can practically feel Will radiating. He’s not sure what that’s about.

Will bounces up and down and a second later, starts cheering. Steve sighs dramatically, falling back into the couch. “Suck it up, Steven,” Will jeers, setting his winning game back to the main menu.  
“Just as crap on the game as you are in real life.”

Steve hits him playfully. “I’m having a rough day, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Will bumps him with his shoulder. “Excuses. And you’re a sore loser, too.” Steve bumps him back harder, and Will puts his controller on the floor. “You wanna go?” he teases, and Steve bumps him again, smirking. Will gasps mockingly and bumps him back twice; “Yeah, you wanna go, do you?”

Will grabs Steve’s arm and pushes it backwards whilst scrambling for the other one. Steve pushes back on him, waving his other arm around to dodge Will with a patronising laugh. Will shifts his legs up onto the sofa and puts his body weight against Steve’s side, managing to grab the other arm and holding them above Steve’s head triumphantly. They both laugh after a few seconds of silent boasting, then Will lets go, poking Steve’s nose on the way down. “See,” he grins, “sore loser.”

Will stretches out his legs over the arm of the sofa and drops his head in Steve’s lap. He closes his eyes, and brushes off the slightest feeling of being a kid again.

“Am I alright to sleep here tonight?” Steve asks after a while. Will can feel Steve’s stomach buzz with his deep voice, only just touching his ear.

“Yeah, course, mate,” he affirms, “you’re always welcome here.”

Will puts one hand behind his head. Steve shifts.

“Is that uncomfortable?” Will looks up at him.

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “you’re alright.”

Will shuffles a bit to get comfortable. It’s funny, he thinks, how in school Steve always seems too wound up to act like he knows him, yet here they are. He knows he can be a bit… well, a bit of a mug, sometimes. But it’s not like he can help it. Regardless, he’s grateful that he’s got Steve. Steve is someone with whom, outside of work, Will can just be himself around. They can Fifa and chill, like mates. (He’s still kicking himself over that.)

Secretly, Steve’s grateful that he’s got Will. He thinks he’s sweet. Sometimes he’s like a puppy, excitable, desperate for validation and praise. But he’s reliable, and genuine, and deep down, he’s actually pretty thoughtful. Steve can turn up at his doorstep, asking to stay out of the blue, and Will can roll with that. In fact, he acts like it’s the best thing to happen to him all week.

Dork. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” Steve says softly, “for this, letting me stay here out of the blue.”

“Are you kidding?” Will grins. “This is the best thing to happen to me all week.”

Will feels very, very calm. Steve is actually very comfortable. In a literal sense, with his head in his lap and tolerating it, but also in this kind of aura he has. Will’s seen him angry. It’s not pretty. But right now, they are both completely content. And it’s comfortable.

Will is radiating again. “Why are you so hot?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Like, you’re radiating,” Steve says, “have you got a fever or something? You having a hot flush?”

“Shut up,” Will says, nudging Steve in the stomach with his head. “It’s just warm in here.” He readjusts himself in Steve’s lap, wriggling about before twisting his neck and just leaning on Steve’s thigh. Steve tenses up. “Sorry, do you want me to move?” Will looks at him earnestly. Puppy. Steve stays quiet. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” Will rolls his head onto the side, facing inwards again, then notices. Steve has a semi.

“Aw,” Will starts before his brain can tell him to shut up, “missing Mandy already?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to heat up. He stumbles over his words, spluttering out; “You kept fucking rubbing yourself on my dick!” Will laughs loudly, covering his face with his hands. “Fine, I’ll just,” Steve pushes his head, “I’ll just leave, then.”

“No, no!” Will gasps for breath, “no, honestly, we’re all – ah, we’re all friends here! We’re all friends here.” He composes himself for a moment until he looks Steve dead in the eye, still resting on his thigh, and bursts out laughing again. Steve sighs heavily. Will rolls over, clutching his stomach, and buries his face in Steve’s shirt to stifle his giggles. It works surprisingly fast.

“Just give me a fucking minute, alright?” Steve mutters. Will thinks for a moment. Maybe he should have just pretended he hadn’t noticed.

But now that this is happening, _literally_ right in front of his eyes, Will’s mind goes in a different direction.

Rolling back so he’s facing upwards, he lifts up an arm and touches Steve’s jaw with his fingertips. Five o’clock shadow, as usual. Steve tilts his head to look down at him – Will takes this as a chance to reach more of his jaw. He runs his finger up to the bottom of Steve’s ear, then back down his chin. When Steve stays quiet, Will drags his finger down Steve’s torso. They make eye contact again, and Steve takes a sharp breath in. Will places his hand over his crotch.

It feels like a staring contest: who’s gonna look away first? Better yet, who’s gonna pull his hand away first? All this tension, yet neither of them do anything. Will plays with Steve’s zipper fly for a few seconds, then pulls it down.

As Will sits up to get in a better position, Steve deals with his trousers and pants. It appears as though they’re both surprising themselves, but they don’t stop. Just… don’t think too hard.

Well, Steve can’t help it. Has Will done this before? Because he’s good. Like, he’s really fucking good. There is absolutely no way he _hasn’t_ done this before. Steve is quiet to begin with, mainly out of fear that he’ll somehow ruin it by being too audible. But after a minute or so Will looks up at him, bottom lip just touching the tip, and Steve sees that look in him again that’s asking for praise. So when he goes back down on him, he groans Will’s name, and hopes that’s enough praise as he needs.

Steve tugs Will’s hair as a warning. Will hesitates, before thinking, _fuck it_ , and carrying on. He’s a trooper. He’ll swallow.

Steve’s breath stutters, and he does.

Somehow, that’s what surprises Steve the most. When Will sits up and wipes his mouth, Steve can’t take his eyes off him. Will doesn’t meet the gaze while he catches his breath, but when he eventually glances up, Steve looks away. He doesn’t know what to think. Clearing his head has worked all too well, gone into underflow, and now his head is totally foggy.

So he asks, “you done that before?”

Will just looks at him, still breathing a little raggedly. For once, Steve can’t read him.

He tidies himself. What does he say? This isn’t his partner, or a one night stand. This is… this is Will. His dumb, goofy mate. This is _not_ someone he knows how to deal with after coming in their mouth.

Deflection usually works. "I probably would have taken that from anyone right now." 

Will looks at him again, but not in the same way. He looks at him with confusion, scepticism, a bit of hurt. He looks at him like he’s just ripped up a piece of work he put a lot of effort into, for no reason at all. “Seriously?” 

Steve pauses. Deflection didn’t work. “What?” 

“I just – you just – is that really all you have to say right now? That you would have taken that from anyone?” Steve doesn’t reply. “That’s really fucking shitty of you.” 

“Sorry, I just meant…” Steve trails off. He rubs his eyes, “I don’t know what I meant.” 

“Don’t get all confused on me now,” Will snaps, falling back into the couch cushions. “Don’t make it gay, or whatever.” 

“Don’t make it gay?” Steve echoes, laughing in disbelief. 

“Yeah, like, I was just,” Will stutters, “do you want me to say no homo, or what? I’m not gay for you or nothing.” 

Steve stands up with a heavy breath, shaking his head. "Look, Will, I don’t care what sexuality you are –” 

"Me? What about you?" Will fires back, leaning forward. “What sexuality are _you_ , Steve? Cause you _let_ me do that, remember?” 

Steve pauses and runs a hand through his hair. “I'm not...” he sighs, “I’m not having a fucking crisis with you right now.” He exits into the hallway, and Will follows him just as he reaches the front door. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” 

He’s out before Will can protest. 


End file.
